


Happily

by katelusive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, Rimming, Slight Dirty Talk, Smut, Teasing, Wedding Day, creative canon, insufferable domestic cuteness, lots of banter, ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katelusive/pseuds/katelusive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Liam celebrate their wedding day, and their wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily

**Author's Note:**

> People on tumblr were talking about ziam getting married and I couldn't get it out of my head, so you can blame them for this 100%. Also, this is quite possibly the fluffiest / filthiest thing I've ever written, FAIR WARNING

“You’ve done it up all wrong,” says Harry with a little giggle, gesturing at Zayn’s tie from behind him in the mirror. “Look Lou, he’s done it backwards. He’s nervous.”   

“It’s hard in the mirror.  Well okay, just tie it for me then,” says Zayn, rolling his eyes as Harry bats his hands away and begins to loop his tie properly. 

Beyond them, Louis paces dramatically with a notecard in his hand.  “To be, or not to be,” he says, outstretching an arm theatrically, “that was _not_ the question that Liam Payne asked Zayn Malik on that fateful night last year. My name is Louis Tomlinson, and I’ll be your guide through this emotional _rollercoaster_ of a tale –” 

“Emotional rollercoaster?” Harry laughs, fingers slipping at Zayn’s collar.

 “We’ll laugh, we’ll cry, AH-BOOHOOHOO –” 

“Um,” says Zayn, eyeing Louis warily in the mirror as Harry laughs helplessly against his shoulder, “I know you’re just messing around, but – you’re just messing around, right?” 

Louis is appalled.  “Absolutely not!  You made the right choice asking me to speak.  It’s my _moment_ , Zayn. They’ll be talking about it for years.”

Harry giggles, patting Zayn on the chest. “There you go. Proper gentleman. Don’t worry about Louis,” he adds in a whisper. “I’ll keep him in line.”

Louis fixes them both with a grave look, one hand over his heart.  “What _is_ love? Come with me now on a journey through time and space as we explore the love story between two bright young pop stars. Sometimes charming, sometimes _incredibly horrible_ , but always pure and true.  Our tale begins – twelfth January, 1993. Zayn Malik was a winter baby –“ 

“You’ve only got five minutes to talk,” Zayn protests. Niall pops his head in.

“Practicin’ our speeches in here, lads?” He looks at Zayn and raises his eyebrows with a quick thumbs up.  “Lookin’ sharp, Zayn.”

Harry kisses Zayn on the cheek. “You look amazing.” 

“You’re just in time,” says Louis, pointing at Niall, “I was thinking you lot could act out my speech, like performance art.” 

“Ooh,” says Harry, head snapping up in interest. “Can I be in it? I want to be Zayn.”

“Of course.  Positions, please.  Act one. The meeting of Zayn and Liam on X-Factor. Liam Payne was a sporty spoilsport, and Zayn “Bad Boy” Malik was too cool for dancing.” 

Harry strikes a dramatic, somewhat suggestive pose that Zayn’s pretty sure he’s never done in his entire life.

“Yes, that’s good, looks just like him,” says Louis. “They were both enormous nerds. It was love at first sight and it – it was very obnoxious, truth be told.” 

Niall’s laughing, leaning up against the doorframe in his tux. 

“Obnoxious, yeah,” he repeats, hands in his pockets. “Do I get to be Liam?”

“Yeah, just stand there and look confused.” 

“Be nice,” says Zayn, but he’s laughing too. Niall gives him a kissy face. He looks neat and elegant, not a hair out of place.  They all look good, dressed in matching blue tuxes.  The Best Men, Louis has insisted on calling them, like they’re some kind of ridiculous gang instead of a wedding entourage. 

Zayn’s heart leaps a little when he thinks of how Liam probably looks.  Liam had fussed around nervously all morning, organizing and re-organizing things around the house the way he always does when he gets anxious until Zayn finally hugged him from behind and said, firmly, “Stop.”  

Liam rolled his eyes but allowed Zayn to tug him down onto the couch, nuzzling into his neck.  “It’s going to be perfect,” Zayn said.  “You’re perfect, Leeyum.” 

“Thanks for noticing,” said Liam, trying to be flippant but going all soft-eyed and smiley.  Then they’d kissed rather too much and Zayn had to completely re-style his hair. 

“Act two,” says Niall, “they pine horribly for each other over two straight tours and whine to us about it until we all want to claw their eyes out.”  

“We weren’t that bad,” Zayn protests. “Why are you still here? Go practice with Liam instead.” He knows why, though. Liam would’ve kicked them out by now. 

“Weren’t that bad?” asks Louis incredulously, ignoring him. “D’you know we actually had a band meeting about you?”

“Multiple meetings,” Niall agrees. “We discussed tactics for not murdering you both in your sleep.”  

“I don’t believe you,” says Zayn, but he’s not sure. It seems like something Louis would orchestrate. 

“Act three,” Harry says slowly, grinning at Zayn in the mirror, “we use devious and ingenious tactics to trick them into confessing their feelings, culminating in some very loud – um – activities –” 

“You lot need to stop with the self-insertion,” says Zayn.  “This is my wedding, it’s all about me!  Compliments only, and no more talk of my loud activities with Liam.”  

“Aw come on Zehn,” says Louis, imitating his accent, “but it’s such a fond memory!  I think we’re all permanently banned from that hotel.  Bet your relatives would love to hear about it!”  

Zayn stands up from the chair, smoothing his hair down over his ear where it’s come undone.  “Act four,” he says, “we get married and it’s awfully cute and nobody says any weird sexual things to my relations.”  

“No, I think you’ve skipped quite a lot,” says Louis thoughtfully.  

“C’mon Hazza,” says Niall.  “Lou sent me in here to get you, she wants to fix your hair.” 

“But it’s perfect already,” Harry pouts into the mirror, tugging on a particularly long curl.  “She’s not here to style me, she’s Zayn’s guest!’  

“She said it’s her present to Zayn and Liam. Makin’ you presentable.”

“Oh, fine.  I’d better be the prettiest present of all, then.” 

“You will be,” Louis assures him with a rather lewd wink.  

Harry gives Louis a quick kiss on the cheek and follows Niall out of the tent.  Once they’re gone, Louis grins at Zayn.  

“You ready for this?” he asks. Zayn gives a little shrug. After months of build-up, it almost feels like a dream – the fresh scent of lilac, his shiny new shoes, the look in Liam’s eyes earlier when he’d said, half-joking, “Next time I see you, I’ll marry you,” which Zayn can’t stop replaying in his mind. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.  Any words of wisdom?”

“Yes,” says Louis gravely.  “Four, actually.”  

“Please don’t make album puns right now. That’s the last thing I need.” 

Louis counts the words out on his fingers. “Don’t – fuck – it – up.”  

“Um, do you mean, don’t fall over when I’m reading my vows?  Or like, don’t be a horrible partner and drive Liam slowly insane over the years?” 

“Both,” says Louis.  “See?  That’s why it’s so helpful.  Multi-faceted advice, right there.” 

“Ah,” says Zayn, smiling.  “I see.  You’re a master. Thanks, Tommo.” He meets Louis’ eyes, which are soft and fond. 

“You deserve it, Zayn,” he says. “You deserve all of this. I’m so happy for you.” 

“Aw,” Zayn teases, trying to conceal the lump in his throat, “are you going to cry?”

“I might,” says Louis.  “Your groom certainly will.  He was already lookin’ a bit teary when I left him. We’ve actually taken bets on how long it’ll take him to start bawling.”  

“What?” Zayn exclaims indignantly. “Nobody told me that! Come on, I want in.” 

“Sorry, Harold said it’s not proper to have you betting on your own husband’s wedding day tears.”  

“It’s the _most_ proper!  I have the best chance at winning!”  

“Nope, not allowed,” says Louis. “Although I’ll tell you my guess – he won’t last thirty seconds after he sees you.  And it will continue for the rest of the evening, the entire time you’re having sex tonight, and doubtless well into the future.” 

“That’s – that’s probably true,” Zayn admits. “What did everyone else guess?” 

“Harry said he would cry during the vows,” says Louis, ticking them off on his finger.  “Caroline bet same as me, when he sees you, and Niall thinks he’s already crying.” 

“I think I’m with Niall on that one,” says Zayn with a little laugh. 

Doniya pokes her head into the tent, hair piled elegantly on top of her head, gesturing impatiently at them.  Louis gives her a charming smile, which she staunchly ignores. 

“Zayn, are you almost ready?  Everyone’s waiting!”  

Zayn rolls his eyes, unable to stop smiling at her. Doniya relents and crosses the floor to hug him, straightening his tie.  

“You look fantastic,” she whispers, tears sparkling in her dark eyes. 

“Thanks,” Zayn says, swallowing the lump that rises in his throat.  “Alright, let’s get moving. I can’t be late to my own wedding.”

 ***

As it turns out, they all lose the bet – Liam holds it together fairly well, misty-eyed and fond, through most of the ceremony. It’s after their first kiss that his fingers clutch tightly into Zayn’s waist and he’s crying when he pulls back, smiling so hard his eyes are nearly closed.  Zayn pulls him closer, holding onto him for dear life, heart so full he thinks it might explode.  

“We did it,” Liam breathes into his neck, a secret whisper just for Zayn, even as everyone’s cheering and applauding from all sides. It’s almost too much – the fresh air, the sun on his hair, the bright smell of citrus and fresh flowers. He sways against Liam, arms locked tight around his back. 

“I knew we would,” he murmurs, kissing Liam on the cheek.

Louis’ speech isn’t half as bad as he’d promised – in fact, it’s quite sweet.  Liam, predictably, sniffles and giggles his way through the entire thing. The day passes in a blur of relatives and champagne, Harry and Louis slow dancing, Paddy wrapping Liam in a bear hug and muttering “I love you, man,” with tears in his eyes.  

Karen, who cried even more than Liam, pulls Zayn close and whispers, “I’d say welcome to the family, but you’ve always been.” Zayn hugs her with tears prickling in his own eyes, at a loss for words.  

Niall teaches Safaa some kind of Irish foot-stepping dance move that she then utilizes in every single song, regardless of tempo. Niall does not fare as well when she tries to teach him a few Pakistani moves, and Louis nearly laughs himself into a cardiac arrest watching Niall trying to imitate Safaa's graceful movements.  

It’s frantic, fast-paced and fun, a sensory overload. Zayn barely gets time to eat a slice of his own wedding cake.  He’s not sure what he’s going to remember about the day, but he knows that it’ll be interspersed with Liam’s hand on his back, Liam’s eyes locked on his even from across the dance floor.  The feeling of Liam’s cheek pressed to his while they dance, just swaying together under the fairy lights. 

"Will you kiss me?" he asks Liam towards the end of the night, when they're almost the last two left dancing.  Liam smiles down at him, cupping his face, eyes impossibly fond. 

"Happily."  

 ***

Hours later, they’re sprawled on the couch at home, finally alone.  Liam has his head nestled in Zayn’s lap, one arm flopped over his eyes.  He’s changed out of his wedding suit into basketball shorts and an ancient blue gym t-shirt that says TURN DOWN FOR SQUATS. Zayn runs his fingers absently through his hair, wondering if he’s asleep.  

“I’m not sleeping, I’m just dead,” Liam says, like he’s reading Zayn’s mind.  They’d opted to stay at home, although Harry and Lou had tried to buy them a _very_ posh room in London for the night. “No thanks,” Liam had said with a little smile.  “I think we’ve had enough hotels for a lifetime.”   Harry gave them a look of intimate understanding and went back to eating his third bowl of firni. 

“I’m glad we came home,” says Zayn, trailing his fingers down Liam’s cheek.  On the floor below, one of the dogs – he can’t be bothered to bend over and check which one, but he thinks it’s Harley – is asleep on his foot.  

“Me too,” says Liam, looking up at Zayn with his eyes half-closed.  “I’m bloody exhausted. Who knew getting married would be so draining?” 

“You’re the one that insisted on going ‘round to hug every single member of my extended family,” Zayn mumbles, thumbing over Liam’s lips.  “And all those selfies with my aunts?  We could’ve gotten away without doing that.”

“They’re my extended family now too, Malik. I’m nothing if not polite.” 

“You are,” Zayn agrees.  “You’re – you’re definitely something.”  

Liam gives him a sleepy little smile. It’s been five years, but somehow his smile is still a wonderful surprise every time.  Is Zayn going to be eighty years old and still getting weak in the knees over it?  Oh lord. How embarrassing. 

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” he murmurs. Liam grabs his hand and kisses his fingers.  

“I don’t know,” he says.  “I like it so far, though.  I’m having a good time.” 

“It doesn’t really feel any different,” muses Zayn, but even as he’s saying it, he knows he’s wrong.  Same couch, same snoring dog, same sleepy Liam, but it’s just – better, somehow.  Fuller. He’s wanted to marry Liam since he was eighteen years old, and the fact that he’s finally done it fills him with a wordless, ineffable joy.

“I feel different,” says Liam, sitting half-up to kiss Zayn on the cheek, leaning heavily against him.  “I’m a married man now.  I feel so alive.” 

“I thought you were dead,” Zayn says, tilting his face against Liam’s.  “You’re confusing me.” He can feel Liam’s breath against his cheek, warm and kind of lemony.  Liam’s hand brushes over his thigh, a casual unthinking touch that still sparks arousal up Zayn’s spine.  

“I’m an enigma,” Liam agrees. 

Zayn presses his lips to the Liam’s cheekbone, trailing kisses down to his lips.  Liam cuddles against him, and Zayn drops a hand to his leg, inching his fingers up the soft material.  Liam giggles against his lips. 

“What are you trying to do, babes,” he mumbles. “Get a little action?” 

“Maybe,” says Zayn, squeezing his thigh. “It is our wedding night, after all.” 

“How offended are you gonna be if I fall asleep during sex?” 

“You’re not gonna fall asleep,” Zayn assures him. “That’s a promise.” 

“Oh is it?” Liam raises his eyebrows. “And how are you gonna keep me up?”

“I’ve got my ways.”  He sinks his teeth lightly into Liam’s neck, and Liam yelps, trying to tickle him.  Zayn squirms away, laughing, but Liam pulls him close and kisses him deeply.  At their feet, the dog gives a grumpy little whine. 

Zayn ignores her, pulling his feet up onto the couch. He pushes Liam back against the couch – “Oof,” says Liam, blinking – and climbs on top of him, trailing fingers up under his worn t-shirt.

“Aw come on Zaynie, I’m simply too tired,” says Liam, but Zayn can feel his cock stirring with interest.  He presses a few more kisses to Liam’s neck and sits back, balanced lightly over Liam’s crotch.  

“Alright, I understand,” he says, innocuously shifting his hips.  Liam bites his lip, staring up at Zayn with wide eyes.  Zayn smiles beatifically down at him.  “We can just go to bed.  Your call, babe.”

“My call, right,” says Liam, transfixed as Zayn raises a hand to his mouth, licking his own pointer finger with obscene precision. 

“I know you’re _so_ tired,” Zayn says softly.  He sucks his finger in between his lips, watching Liam’s reaction with his eyes half-lidded.

“Shit,” says Liam, swallowing, cock stiffening under Zayn’s ass.  Zayn sucks his finger harder, locking eyes with Liam.  

“Mm,” he moans softly around his finger, fighting the urge to laugh at the look on Liam’s face. 

“ _God_ ,” Liam whispers, rutting his hips up gently against Zayn.  “That’s not fair.” 

“What’s not fair?” Zayn asks innocently, letting his hands drop to his sides.  “We’re just gonna go to bed, right?” 

He starts to get off, but Liam’s hands fly up to grip his waist, holding him in place.  

“Don’t fucking move, you.”  

“But you’re simply too tired,” Zayn teases. Liam grinds his cock up against Zayn’s ass, holding him in place, letting him feel exactly how hard he is. _Fuck_. Zayn licks his lips, trying not to moan out loud.  

“It’s my wedding night.  I have the rest of my life to sleep.  C’mere,” Liam urges, and Zayn leans forward to let Liam capture his lips in a hard, searing kiss.  Nothing turns him on faster than this – Liam’s fingers twisted in his shirt, stubble bristling against his skin, cock pressed hard and insistent against his hip. Liam yanks up the hem of his shirt, and Zayn helps him pull it off.  

“Oh yeah,” Liam breathes, pressing his mouth to Zayn’s collarbone, lips trailing over his tattoos.  “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”  

Zayn’s cheeks tingle with pleasure as Liam licks and sucks across his throat, hands spread over the flat of his back. 

“ _You’re_ sexy,” he replies, moaning in surprise when Liam nips at the sensitive skin under his jaw.  Liam shifts back and pulls off his t-shirt, grinning.  

“Am I?  You think so?” 

“Absolutely,” says Zayn, licking his lips as he takes in Liam’s muscular shoulders, the smattering of dark hair over his chest, the dips and curves of his strong biceps.  “Look at you.  God.” The sight of Liam shirtless will never get old – in fact, it’s only gotten better and better over the years. 

Liam ducks his head, smiling. “Aw.  That’s nice.  You’re sweet.” 

“I’m very sweet,” Zayn agrees. “And complimentary. I’m assuming that’s why you married me. You love a good compliment.”

“That’s true,” admits Liam, pulling Zayn down on top of him.  “I suppose it factored in.” His hands hook in Zayn’s belt loops, grinding their hips together.  Zayn moans at the feeling of Liam’s cock, stiff and solid against his own. 

“Oh that feels good, Lee.”  

“How are we gonna do this?” Liam breathes against Zayn’s open mouth.  “Should we have, like, soft and tender – I don’t know, like, wedding sex?  Lots of eye contact?  Is that what people do?” 

“I don’t care what people do,” Zayn replies, biting Liam’s lower lip.  “I just want your dick in my mouth as soon as possible, okay?”  

Liam groans, pushing his hips up into Zayn’s. 

“Okay,” he says in a docile little voice, running his hands over Zayn’s shoulders, down his back.  “That sounds – I’m good with that.”  

Zayn slides his lips down the side of Liam’s throat, across his shoulder, peppering tiny bite marks over his chest. He crawls lower, kissing down his stomach, pausing when he gets to Liam’s waistband.  Liam’s staring down at him, lips parted and glistening. Zayn gives him a little smile, brushing his lips over the bulge in Liam’s shorts.  

Liam exhales, reaching down to brush Zayn’s hair out of his eyes.  Zayn tugs on the waist of his shorts and he shifts his hips up, helping Zayn pull them off. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Zayn bites his lip, smiling.  Liam’s cock bobs just in front of his mouth. 

“You want this?” Zayn asks softly, watching Liam through his eyelashes.  Liam lets out a pained little whine, fingers soft but insistent on the back of Zayn’s neck. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” Liam breathes, stroking through Zayn’s hair.  Zayn licks his lips, dropping his eyes to the head of Liam’s cock, then playfully back up at him. 

“You sure you’re not too tired?” 

“Come on, Zayn,” Liam groans, shifting his hips impatiently.  “Are you waiting for me to say please?” 

“You _do_ claim to be the polite one,” murmurs Zayn.  He wants to tease him further – it’s so much fun to watch Liam fall apart bit by bit, watch his cheeks go pink and then red, voice shaking helplessly as he begs for it.  But he takes Liam’s cock into his mouth anyway, just the head, sucking gently. Liam inhales sharply, fingers tightening in Zayn’s hair.  

“Ohh that’s good,” Liam mumbles, eyes sliding shut. 

“I still wanna hear you say it,” Zayn says, licking delicately around the head of his cock.  Liam juts his hips forward, moaning, eyes are dark with lust as he watches Zayn between his legs. 

“Fuck.  Okay. Please – _please_ – oh my god.”  

“Good boy,” mumbles Zayn, and Liam moans again, sliding his other hand into Zayn’s hair as well.  Zayn takes him further down his throat, breathing through his nose, relishing the way Liam’s fingers clench in his hair.  He bobs slowly up and down on his cock, eyes upturned to watch Liam’s cheeks turn pink. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Liam groans, hips jutting forward.  “Oh fuck. Yeah, just like that. Oh _god_ Zayn –“ 

He’s getting ridiculously hard, precum gushing into Zayn’s mouth, and Zayn pulls off with a wet pop.  Liam pouts down at him.  

“Why—“ 

“Shh,” says Zayn.  “You know you don’t get to come yet.  Don’t give me that look.”  He licks across Liam’s balls, a thick broad swipe, and Liam swears loudly. 

“But—“

“Oh shut up, you love it,” Zayn says, climbing up and nuzzling his face into Liam’s neck.  Liam shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Zayn.  

“You little tease,” he whispers into Zayn’s ear, voice soft and hot.  Zayn giggles, trying to pull away, but Liam holds him there, arm tight around his back. 

“You fuckin’ _love_ it,” Zayn whispers back.  Liam thrusts against him, holding him in place, precum-slick cock rock-hard against Zayn’s bare hip. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, babe.” 

Zayn shivers, his own cock straining against the front of his jeans.  Liam reaches down to fumble with the button, and Zayn helps him slide them down. He pulls Liam’s hand towards his cock but Liam shakes him off.  He kisses Zayn soundly, twining their tongues together, one large hand flat against the small of Zayn’s back.  

“First, though,” Liam breathes against his lips, “I want you to sit on my face.”  

Zayn’s mind goes fuzzy for a second, and he swallows, hard.  It’s been awhile since they’ve done that, and Liam is _very_ good at it.  “Oh, fuck yeah. Really?”

“Yeah, get up here,” says Liam with a wicked little grin, settling back against the arm of the couch.  Zayn crawls up his chest and turns around, one knee on either side of Liam’s body.    

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says again, breathless as Liam spreads his cheeks, mouth hot and close but barely touching him.   

“Oh I know you like that,” Liam mumbles, and Zayn moans. His breath catches as Liam’s tongue darts out against his hole, gently circling it, teasing him. “Tell me how that feels.”

“So fucking good,” Zayn whimpers, and Liam rewards him with a few long, broad strokes, slow and hot, just how he likes it. “Oh my god, your tongue feels amazing, please lick me Leeyum –“ 

Liam’s cock twitches against his belly, rock-hard and leaking.  Liam _loves_ it when Zayn talks dirty – he always has, right from the first time they’d ever had sex.  Zayn had been blowing him, a little nervous, a little ecstatic, and full of false bravado he’d said “God, just fuck my mouth, Leeyum,” but Liam hadn’t gotten the chance – he was already coming, hand clutched spasmodically in Zayn’s hair, eyes screwed shut like he was in pain.  

Zayn wants to reach down and grab Liam’s cock but he definitely isn’t about to move.  Not when Liam’s tongue is almost inside him, slick and maddeningly good, making it hard to breathe.  

“Fuck, keep going,” he whines, grabbing his own cock, unable to help himself.  It’s too good, too much, Liam’s strong hands pulling his ass open, skilled tongue turning him into a quivering mess.  He gives himself a few loose strokes, just enough to take the edge off. 

Liam pushes him up a little and he complies instantly, knowing what’s coming next.  Sure enough, he feels a slow finger being pushed inside, and he can’t help a shameless moan.  

“Yeah,” Liam grunts against his ass. “You fuckin’ love it. Tell me how bad you want me.” 

“Really bad, give me more, please,” Zayn pleads, wanting it all – it stings but he loves it, craves the raw roughness of Liam’s fingers twisting into him hard and desperate.  Liam tends to treat him like a porcelain doll more often than not, and Zayn lives for the times when he gets rough and eager. “God.  Please, Leeyum.  I need this.”  

Liam pushes him up until he’s bent forward, shoving him over the other end of the couch.  Then Zayn feels two fingers against him, and he groans, pushing back against Liam’s hand.  Liam moans too. 

“Please,” says Zayn again, head buried in his arms against the couch, “come on, fuck me, I’m ready –“ 

“You’re nuts,” says Liam, shaking his head. “I’m getting lube.” 

“No, it’s okay, I don’t need that,” says Zayn, but Liam’s already up, rummaging in the table across the room. He dives back onto the couch, pulling Zayn on top of him. 

“You think you’re a fuckin’ porn star or something?” Liam asks, grinning.  Zayn bends down to kiss him, biting his lower lip.  

“Yes,” he says, and Liam cracks up, pressing the lube into Zayn’s hand.  

“Show me what you’ve got then,” he giggles, attempting to wink, settling back against the couch.  

“You can’t wink for shit,” Zayn tells him, and Liam tries again, lascivious and exaggerated, just because he knows Zayn hates it. “You’re just blinking. That’s just – sexy blinking.” 

“My blinking _is_ sexy,” Liam agrees, trying a third time.  He looks like he’s having a fit.  “Everything I do is sexy.  We’re married now, you have to agree with me.”    

“Shut up,” says Zayn, kissing him quiet. Liam makes a pleased little moan against his lips, hand rising to press broad and warm on his face. 

Zayn pulls back to settle on top of Liam’s thighs, squeezing some lube into his fingers and rubbing them together to warm it up. Liam pulls his lower lip between his teeth when Zayn grabs his cock, rubbing him slowly, twisting his palm around the head.  His hips surge up, and Zayn smiles. 

“Look at you,” he whispers.  “Begging for it already.  Shameless.” 

Liam opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, then closes it with a little shrug.  “Guilty. Fuck me.”  

“Okay,” says Zayn, straddling Liam’s waist, positioning himself over his rigid cock.  One of Liam’s hands settles on his hip, the other reaching up to trail down his chest. He’s staring at Zayn with a funny little smile on his face, and Zayn says “What?” 

“Nothing,” says Liam, as Zayn slowly starts to slide down on his cock.  “Ah, god. Fuck.  You’re just – perfect, Zayn.  I’m – I’m in love with you.” 

“Aw, Leeyum,” says Zayn, smiling, chest hot and full. Liam’s cock feels huge, burning-hot, halfway inside him.  Liam licks his lips, pupils huge.  

“It’s true,” he says, voice breaking, eyes dark and earnest. “I’m just – really lucky. I get you all to myself.” 

“It’s a privilege,” Zayn agrees, but secretly he’s delighted.  God, he’s so gone for Liam.  Is this what the rest of his life is going to be like?  After they’d first gotten together – beyond the initial haze of heated glances, constant arousal, frantic sex wherever they could find the room – he’d wondered if that dopey, swooning feeling he got from looking into Liam’s eyes would ever fade. He kept expecting it to, but so far, it hadn’t.  In fact, it had only gotten stronger, which was mildly terrifying. 

“I love you too.”  

Liam hisses when Zayn sits fully down onto his cock, fingers clenching on his hip.  His hair, so carefully styled earlier, is tumbling loose over his forehead and his eyes are wide and dark with lust.  He looks young and impatient, a gorgeous memory of his younger self, the Liam Zayn remembers from some of those long, desperate nights in foreign hotels where they couldn’t get enough of each other.  Zayn grins down at him.  

“You look hot,” he says, shifting his hips forward just a bit, waiting to adjust to Liam’s size.  Liam groans, running a hand through his hair.

“God, that feels so good.  Can you – please –” 

“Not yet,” says Zayn, although he’s ready to move. He wants to make Liam wait for it, stretch this out as long as he can.  There’s nothing like the look in Liam’s eyes as he watches Zayn on top of him, predatory and helpless all at once.  Zayn wants to make him work for it tonight.  

Liam lets out an impatient little moan, fingers tapping against Zayn’s waist, closing against his skin. “I know what you’re doing. You wanna tease me. You’re trying to make me crazy.”

“You don’t need my help with that, babe,” says Zayn with a little grin.  “You’ve always been crazy.”  

“Okay, wow,” says Liam, like he’s going to say something snarky, but Zayn braces his hands against Liam’s chest and slowly rolls his hips forward, forcing a choked little gasp out of Liam. “Wow,” Liam says again, in a tiny little voice, eyes half-closed.  “Do that again. Please.”  

Zayn complies, pulling his body up and grinding gently down onto Liam’s cock, relishing the feeling of fullness. “Your cock feels great,” he says, “fuck, you’re so hard, Lee,” and Liam grabs his hips, pushing him further down onto it.  Zayn swears as the head of Liam’s cock brushes maddeningly against his prostate, making him shiver. 

Liam’s mouth falls open as Zayn rides him slowly, stroking his own cock loosely with one hand, never fully bottoming out. “Come on, please,” Liam says, voice low and restrained even as sweat beads at his temples.  “Harder.”  

Zayn smiles.  “Oh, I don’t know, I think it’s nice like this.  Slow and tender.  That’s what you wanted, right?”  

He loves testing Liam’s control like this, taking him to the very brink of his considerable self-restraint.  He knows that if he pushes much harder, Liam’s going to snap and flip him over, fuck him hard and brutal into the couch. It’s happened before. 

He grinds down onto Liam’s cock, pleasure blooming up through his stomach at the feeling of Liam stiff and unyielding inside him.  He pulls up slowly and inches back down, watching Liam through his eyelashes.  Liam’s biting his lower lip hard enough to bruise, head tilted to the side, eyes hungry and wild.  

“You’re trying to _wreck_ me,” he groans, and Zayn nods, rolling his hips in a way he knows will drive Liam insane.  

“What are you gonna do about it?” he asks, chin lifted defiantly.  

“Oh my god,” growls Liam, grabbing him by the waist and grinding his cock up as hard as he can, jolting Zayn down onto it. Zayn gasps, bracing himself against Liam’s arms.   

“Oh fuck yeah,” Liam groans, both hands clamped strong and tight around Zayn’s waist, pulling him up and down on his cock. “You like that? This what you’re trying to get me to do?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn whispers, eyes sliding shut as Liam drives up into him, trying to quell the orgasm blooming deep in his belly – he doesn’t want this to end, not ever.  But Liam has a different idea, reaching a hand around his cock, stroking in time with his upward thrusts.  

“I bet you wanna come all over me, don’t you,” he says, head cocked to the side, messy hair and obscenely pink lips. The thought of painting Liam’s hard abs and chest with thick strips of cum is too good, too much, and Zayn moans helplessly, nodding.  

“Go on, then,” grunts Liam, rutting into him, hand rough and fast around Zayn’s cock.  He knows exactly how to make Zayn fall apart.  The walls are closing in until all Zayn can see is Liam’s mouth, full and wet, and Zayn’s coming before he knows what’s happening, bright sparks exploding behind his eyelids, Liam’s hands on his hips and cock buried deep inside him.

“Oh my god, you’re so hot,” Liam groans, fingers stuttering on Zayn’s hips, slowing down for an instant to survey the splatters of white across his chest.  There’s even some on his cheek.  Zayn giggles breathlessly, heart pounding out of control, reaching out to touch it. 

“What, is there something on my face?” Liam asks innocently, and Zayn laughs.  Then Liam’s pulling out and hauling him up, pushing him backwards against the couch. 

“Fuck yeah,” Zayn whispers as Liam hitches one of his legs up, driving into him again.  “Give it to me.”  It’s a good angle – he can see Liam’s exposed throat, cum dripping down his glistening chest, over his abs. 

Zayn feels fragile but powerful at the same time. It’s intoxicating to know that he’s the only one able to see Liam – cautious, discreet, rule-loving Liam – lose his mind like this, fucking him like a wild animal.  It’s a special kind of high, and he treasures it each time.   

“Oh yeah, take my cock, god that’s good,” Liam’s grunting, one hand splayed against Zayn’s chest, pushing him down, the other gripping his leg hard enough to bruise.  He’s fucking into him so hard their bodies are jolting, eyes closed, sweat dripping down his throat.  

“Come on, babe” says Zayn, turning his eyes up to Liam’s face, locking his other leg around Liam’s waist, pulling him even closer. “Wanna watch you come.” Liam stares down at him, breathing hard, eyes helpless and feral. 

“Come inside me,” Zayn urges softly, and Liam’s eyes slide shut. 

“ _Shit_ , I’m – oh _god_ Zayn –“ he stutters, and his hips surge forward, head dropping down, fingers clenching spasmodically against Zayn’s skin.  His body goes rock-solid, sweat dripping from his bangs onto Zayn’s face, and then he’s gasping, pressing close to Zayn, his cheek wet and bristly.  His chest heaves against Zayn’s as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Holy shit,” he says hoarsely against the side of Zayn’s face.  

“Holy shit,” Zayn agrees, pressing his lips to Liam’s cheek, the side of his jaw, whatever he can reach.  “That was – holy shit.” 

“Everything you dreamed of?” Liam asks, still breathing hard, nestling his sweaty head into Zayn’s neck. 

“And more,” says Zayn.  “Excellent.  Top marks. I need to – augh, be careful, it’s gonna be –“ he says as Liam slowly pulls out.  

“Oops,” says Liam.  “I think I made a mess.”  

“Oh god.”  Zayn rolls his eyes.  “I think we both need a shower.”

“Our first married shower,” Liam says with a dopey smile.  He’s so cute that Zayn wants to smack him, or maybe kiss him, or maybe push him down and fuck him all over again.  

“You’re such a dork,” he says, smiling back, unable to help it.  

“Well, you’re obviously into that,” Liam remarks, standing up.  “This is your life now. All dork all the time. Alright, come on. Let’s get cleaned up.” 

Zayn allows himself to be tugged up, leaning against Liam, body pleasant and boneless.  Suddenly he’s exhausted, the day catching up to him, and he sags into Liam’s arms. 

“Carry me,” he mumbles, and Liam laughs.

“What am I, your pack mule?” 

“My husband,” says Zayn softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. Liam’s lips wobble and he scoops Zayn up, kissing him.  Zayn flutters his eyelashes up at him.  

“I knew that would work on you.” 

“I’m a sap,” Liam agrees, arms tight under Zayn’s body. Zayn links his hands loosely around Liam’s shoulders.  Harley, who had fled the room sometime earlier, comes padding back in and butts her head against Liam’s shin with a soft growl.  

“Well I can’t carry you too,” Liam complains, side-stepping her.  She follows them down the hallway, tail wagging.  “You guys are so clingy.”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that you’re gonna have to wash me as well?” Zayn yawns, pressing his face into Liam’s neck. “I’m definitely too tired. I don’t think I can stand up.” 

“You’re such a diva,” says Liam, setting him down on the side of the tub. 

“You knew what you were signing up for,” says Zayn, smiling up at him.  “I’m a pop star. Very needy.”  

“You’re going to be sorry when I reveal everything on one of those Entertainment Tonight specials,” says Liam, reaching over him to turn on the shower. 

Harley sits like a sentry in the doorway, head cocked curiously at them.  “You don’t get to come in,” says Liam, pointing at her.  “Stay.”  She completely ignores him, padding across the room and dropping her head into Zayn’s lap.

“I won’t care,” says Zayn, absently stroking the dog. “I’m at peace with myself. Tell the people what you want.” 

“Aw,” says Liam, smiling at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m not worried about it,” Zayn says. The steam feels good against his back, comforting, along with the faint smell of grapefruit soap and Liam’s cologne.  “You’d never breathe a word of this.  You’re too principled.” 

“Try me, Malik,” says Liam, but he’s smiling as he tugs Zayn up for a kiss, helping him into the shower.  

 

Later, they’re lying clean and warm in bed, both dogs snuggled at their feet – “Get them off,” Liam had complained, but Zayn had made his eyes all wide and said “Just for tonight, jaan?”, and Liam had relented, for once breaking his ironclad rule of No Dogs On The Comforter – and Liam’s fingers link with his under the blankets. 

“This was the best day of my life,” he says into the dark. Zayn’s half-asleep but the words still tug at his heart, and he snuggles closer against Liam.  

“Mine too,” he says sleepily. 

“I meant to ask earlier, did you get any good marriage advice?” Liam asks.  “My dad lectured me for like twenty minutes on how to be a good husband. He gave me a lot of tips. So – get ready for it. I’m going to be making you a lot of Sunday morning omelets.  Apparently that’s crucial to a healthy marriage.”  

“Mm,” says Zayn, eyes closed, face pressed to Liam’s shoulder.  “I hate omelets. Can we switch it to pancakes?” 

“Maybe,” says Liam.  “I’ll have to ask my dad.”  

“Louis gave me good advice,” Zayn mumbles. 

“What did he say?” 

“He just said ‘don’t fuck it up.’ Simple.  I liked it.” 

“Nice and straightforward,” Liam agrees, trailing a hand through Zayn’s hair.  “That’s not what he said to me.  I got a whole talking-to. I was getting lectured all day, it didn’t seem fair.”  

Zayn laughs, curling into Liam’s touch. He feels protected, secure with their legs tangled together under the covers, and the weight of the dogs warm and heavy at their feet. 

“What did he tell you?” 

“Um,” says Liam.  “Well first he went on this lengthy speech about how lucky I am to have you, and how I’m fifty thousand times less insane than I used to be, and that’s entirely because of you –“

“He’s not wrong,” Zayn murmurs, and Liam tickles him until he shrieks.  Harley gives a sleepy little growl from the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, well, be that as it may. Rather excessive amount of teasing, in my opinion.  But all in all, it was sweet.  He said he knew I’d be – good to you.”  

“Of course you will,” says Zayn. “You always have been.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” murmurs Liam. Zayn can’t see him but he can imagine the expression on his face – soft and content, eyes closed, a little smile on his lips.  “You’re gonna be a good husband too.  You don’t have to worry about fucking it up.  I don’t think that’s possible.”  

Zayn presses a kiss to the side of his head, getting a mouthful of hair.  “Hey,” he says, nudging Liam.  “I just realized. Tomorrow is Sunday. Am I going to get my healthy marriage breakfast?” 

“Gotta start things off right,” mumbles Liam. “Omelets it is. Breakfast in bed." 

“No, pancakes,” protests Zayn. “Pancakes or our marriage is definitely going to fail.” 

“You don’t know that for sure,” says Liam, stretching his legs out under the blanket and nuzzling into Zayn’s neck. “Alright.  I’ll see what I can do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come scream about ziam with me on [tumblr](http://www.kate-lusive.tumblr.com) :D


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